


Unspoken Words

by JLBurke



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1746155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLBurke/pseuds/JLBurke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade calls Sherlock and John into a new case that they were not expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All comments on mistakes are appreciated, I hope you enjoy!

John woke up to Sherlock nudging his shoulder.

“What do you want?” John asked, annoyed at the early rising.

“Lestrade needs us.”

“What now?”

“He didn’t specify.”

“Yeah right, goodnight Sherlock.” John said, rolling over to ignore Sherlock.

“We need to go, John.”

“Why would _you_ go to Lestrade when you don’t even know why?”

“He sounded scared; He’s never sounded scared before, _never_. I can tell this is going to be interesting.”

John sighed and got up. “Fine, now get out of my room so I can get dressed.”

Sherlock smiled smugly and left.

They drove to Scotland Yard and they spotted a commotion outside on the street. Several men were crowded around in the road, trying to detain someone that was out of John and Sherlock’s view. At the sight of the car, Lestrade came running over to them. Sherlock decided to leave the car in the middle of the road since they couldn’t drive it further anymore, with the obstruction, and Sherlock couldn’t be bothered to park anywhere else. The two of them got out of the car.

“John, Sherlock, you need to see something.” Lestrade said.

They pushed their way to the centre of the crowd.

A man with dis-coloured, brown, flaky skin, who was foaming from the mouth, was recklessly writhing around, trying to get out of the police men’s grip. The man was unlike anything John had ever seen before on the battle field where most people let themselves go bloodthirsty.

“What happened to him?” John exclaimed as the man was finally detained and taken inside the yard and put in a jail cell.

“I don’t know. We’ve had loads of phone calls about the same sort of thing; most of our people are on it, trying to sort it out. Maybe they are all from a new cult or something?”

“For what purpose would they have to damage their skin so much and attack people?” John asked.

“I have no idea.” Lestrade replied. “Whatever it is, it has spread all over London.”

“I’m going to interrogate the one you found of the streets.” Sherlock said.

“Okay but watch out, he’s stronger than he looks.” Lestrade replied.

“We can handle it, come on John.”

John followed behind loyally and they stood outside the jail cell.

The man sat huddled in the corner until they approached the cell, then the man charged at them as if the metal jail cell bars weren’t there and John was sure he had brain damage. The man sat up, with two bleeding, bar-shaped welts in his forehead. The blood wasn’t red though, it was purple.

“Sherlock, what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know. I always know. How do I not know?” Sherlock walked over to the window to try and clear his mind, he saw masses of the things roaming the streets in the distance. “John.” Sherlock called. “We need a plan.”

“A plan?”

“We need to figure out how to kill these things. The one in the jail cell should be dead but it _isn’t._ Something strange is going on, but before we figure out what, we have to know how to protect ourselves from them.”

“Sherlock, I think they’re zombies.”

“Excuse me?”

“Surely you must have seen a zombie movie.”

“No, they’re too predictable.”

“Advert then. You must have watched an advert with a zombie in.”

“Yes but, John, its fiction, not reality.”

 “Why not reality, it’s a possibility? We could try shooting it in the head.”

Sherlock went to where the guns were kept and grabbed a gun for him and one for John. He went back to the thing in the cell and cocked his gun. He handed the other gun to John and aimed his gun at the thing’s brain, then shot it.

It made an inhuman, pig-like squeal but remained standing.

“Stupid idea shared by writers of _movies_. If the thing’s brain barely works anyway, a bullet in it isn’t going to help. So, somehow, maybe, the heart becomes more independent.” Sherlock said, re-aiming the gun at the zombie’s heart and shooting.

The zombie fell to the ground, dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock left to go to the entrance of the yard, in a rush, to find Lestrade, John followed.

“Lestrade, tell your police that you kill the zombies by shooting them in the heart.” Sherlock said.

“Shoot them? They’re _citizens_!” Lestrade replied.

“Zombies!”

“Zombies aren’t real, surely you don’t believe in them.”

A zombie, who had been put in handcuffs, came running inside. He charged at them all, eyes wide and teeth bare, ready to sink into flesh. Lestrade ordered. “Stay there or I’ll shoot!”

The zombie leaped forwards towards Lestrade and Sherlock shot him in mid-air. It crashed to the ground in front of Lestrade.

“Point taken.” Lestrade said as he grabbed his walkie-talkie.

“These things aren’t human. You have to shoot them in the heart to kill them. That’s an order!”

John suddenly realized. “Sherlock! Mrs. Hudson’s alone! We have to get her!”

“We’ll be risking our lives John.”

“Then I’ll go on my own.”

“But-

Sherlock stopped talking when he realized some of the zombies were staggering towards the front door. “Okay, John. Let’s get in the car.”

“We can’t leave Greg behind.” John added.

Sherlock groaned. “Fine. Hurry up!”

The three of them shot their way through to the car, carrying a gun each and as much ammo as they could carry. Sherlock drove to 221, with John next to him and Lestrade in the back.

They all clambered into the apartment.

Sherlock went into 221B and grabbed his preferred gun and brought John’s to him.

John and Lestrade went to 221A. They burst into the door, using the spare key she’d given to John. Mrs. Hudson jumped at the sudden noise. “What’s going on?”

“You don’t know?” Lestrade asked.

Mrs. Hudson replied questioningly. “Know what?”

John went over to her television and turned it on. The first channel to come on was _BBC News_. A female reporter sat in the studio, with a picture of the zombie filled towns behind her.

The news reporter announced. ‘ _London is under lockdown and we still haven’t been able to make contact with the rest of the UK. Do not panic as people are doing their bests to figure out what is going on. Please stay in your homes and do not attempt to approach anyone with dis-coloured, peeling skin. Stay tuned for further updates.’_

John turned the television off.

“Oh my goodness.” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.

“Mrs. Hudson, you’ll be safer with us.” John said.

“But it said to stay in the house.”

Lestrade replied. “I’m chief of police and I know what’s best so for your safety, I suggest you come with us.”

“Can I get changed first?”

“We don’t really have time.”

“But I’m in my relaxing clothes.”

Lestrade huffed. “How long will you be?”

“Just a jiffy.”

He sighed “Go on then.”

Mrs. Hudson went to her room and got dressed. Sherlock came down and handed John another gun.

“Thanks.” John said.

Sherlock nodded in response. “What’s taking so long?”

“Mrs. Hudson’s getting changed.”

Mrs. Hudson came out of her room and said. “Ready.”


	3. Chapter 3

They got back in the car and Mrs. Hudson joined Lestrade in the back.

After they had driven past Scotland Yard, John asked. “Sherlock, where are we going?”

He didn’t reply.

“Sherlock!”

“Somewhere safe.”

John sighed, he obviously wasn’t going to get a better answer but he trusted him enough not to worry.

They pulled up at The Diogenes Club.

“Oh god, not Mycroft! Why are we here?”

“You’ll find out eventually.” Sherlock said. “Come on, everybody out!”

They got out and the streets were surprisingly empty. Sherlock wondered what this place had that the yard didn’t that made a difference on the zombies.

 _It had silence_. He thought to himself.

“The zombies must be attracted to sound.” Sherlock announced. “That’s why none are here, because of the club’s rule of silence.”

Sherlock went up to the club and knocked on the door but to no answer, Sherlock knew that the old rich people inside wouldn’t want to risk their lives for anyone but it was worth a try.

“Can’t we just break the door down?” Lestrade asked.

“No, too many locks.”

“Then how do we get in?”

“Break a window.”

“Are you serious?”

“Am I the joking type?” Sherlock asked as he jumped, shoulder first, into the window that was on the side of the building.

The glass shattered and he fell through onto the glass covered floor. The elderly men looked up in hysterical horror.

“I’m here to see my older brother, Mycroft.” Sherlock said.

Upon mention of his name and the noise of a breaking window, Mycroft walked in, from his office, to see his little brother covered in shards of glass and blood. Mycroft scowled but couldn’t say anything since it was a place of silence so instead, he mouthed. ‘ _My office, now!’_

“You have guests; let me welcome them in first.” Sherlock said in the tone of voice usually adorned by a sarcastic little brother.

He then walked over to the front door and un-did all the locks before letting John, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson in.

Sherlock said to John. “There’s a bit of a draft, you might want to do something about that.”

Then Sherlock walked into Mycroft’s office.  Mycroft stood outside his office, fixated in rage.

“Are you coming or what?” Sherlock asked Mycroft.

Mycroft went inside and closed the door behind him.

“What were you thinking? You could have gotten us all killed by letting those things in!”

“No zombies are in sight because of your miserable little rule.”

Mycroft sighed. “Why did you come here?”

“For answers.”

“On what?”

“What these things are.”

“What makes you think I know the answer?”

“Because you are the British Government.”

Mycroft knew he could never hide anything from Sherlock, ever.

“What. Are. Those _things_?”

“Fine, I’ll tell you. We were trying to find a cure for rabies.”

“We?”

“I hired a team of scientists.”

“Do continue.”

“It had taken months of injecting different serums into rats before we had discovered a cure. I wanted to keep it a secret until we had tested it further but one of the scientist felt it was wrong to keep it to ourselves because so many people were dying every day and the sooner the better. The scientist gave the vaccine out to London hospitals. Hundreds of people have been given the vaccine and turned into those _things._ I guess the serum only works on rats. The vaccine spread. If you get bitten by one of them, you turn into one. If any of their saliva gets in you, or their blood, you’re one of them. As soon as I figured out what was going on, I put London on lockdown before it could spread anymore. No one’s getting in or out. I was so stupid to have created the serum in the first place.” Mycroft sunk to the floor and brought his knees to his chest. “Just so you know, I’m sorry for everything I’ve done.”

“Spare it Mycroft.”

“Seriously, I’m sorry for killing the whole of London!” He took a deep breath “And I’m sorry for what I did to you as a child. I’m sorry for telling on you all the time, I was just a kid. I didn’t know it would make mummy and daddy hate you. I’m so sorry. I just thought you should know that. I’ve regretted it my whole life. Now I’ve screwed up so far, _way_ beyond apology!” Mycroft put his head in his hands and Sherlock thought he looked like was going to have a mental breakdown.

Mycroft was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder and was even more shocked to hear Sherlock say. “You have definitely done something terrible but I forgive you for what happened as children. I’m sorry I scared all your friends away in high school.”

“It’s okay, if I hadn’t made our parents hate you, you wouldn’t have learnt the art of deduction and you wouldn’t have scared my friends away with your on-point deductions. It’s my entire fault, especially now. I’m a failure.”

“Mycroft-

“No, don’t say anything, I know what I am. Now go sort out your injuries.”

Sherlock hesitated, he had never seen his brother this fragile before and he had never apologised truthfully for anything before. Sherlock didn’t want to leave him; he had so much to say.

“Go. Please.”

Sherlock had a million things in his mind that he could say but couldn’t choose one, so he left. He left his brother behind.


	4. Chapter 4

“Sherlock!” John called. “Let me get those shards out of you. I’m sure there’s a first aid kit around here somewhere.”

“I-I can do it myself.”

“Are you okay?” John asked, concern lacing his words.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sherlock looked around the room. The others had barricaded the doors and windows and the elderly people must have fled, deeming this place more unsafe than what lurked outside. A first aid box was in the corner, hanging on a wall.

Sherlock grabbed the box and pulled out the shards with tweezers, wincing at the big pieces. He sanitised his wounds then they stood in comfortable silence. John’s gaze shifted to the window. “Sherlock, there’s a little girl outside, she’s not a zombie.”

“So?”

“So?” John sounded disgusted. “We have to rescue her.”

“And risk our own lives?”

“Yes. What if it was you as a child out there and I’d left you to die?”

“That wouldn’t have happened since I’d have been smart enough to find a safe place to hide.”

“Maybe she can’t find one.”

“Then she’s not trying hard enough.”

“Sherlock.”

“What?”

“I’m going. You can stay here or you can come with me.”

“I will have no part in this.”

“Fine. Whatever!” John said as he started un-doing the locks on the front door.

John left  in search of the little girl he saw. The streets had zombies but they were too busy devouring a family. His stomach churned as a zombie ripped out the throat, of who must have been the mother of the group of dead people, with its teeth.

He continued, gun poised, in the direction he saw the girl go.

John caught sight of her and said. “Psst.”

The girl immediately turned at the noise and jumped, thinking it was a zombie.

“It’s okay, I’m not a zombie. I can take you to a safe place if you want.”

“F-for real? S-safety?”

“Yes, if you come with me.”

“Thank you.”

John put his gun in his pocket and reached out to hold her hand. She took it and gripped it like a vice.

Because he could feel her shaking, John said. “It’s not that far away and I’ve got plenty of ammo to protect us, okay?”

The girl nodded and they made their way cautiously back to the club.

Sherlock groaned when the door opened, having to look after yet another person; another person to protect and feed.

“Who’s this?” Lestrade asked.

Sherlock replied. “John picked her up from off the streets.”

“Sherlock!” John shouted.

“What?” Sherlock spat back.

John didn’t answer. He crouched down to the little girl and asked. “How old are you?”

“Nine.” She replied.

“And what’s your name”

“Ivy. Ivy Valentine.”

“Everyone, this is Ivy. We’re looking after her now. Ivy, I’m John, that’s Greg, that’s Mrs. Hudson, that’s Mycroft in that room over there and that miserable sod in the corner is Sherlock.”

Ivy giggled.

Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson gathered round to see her.

John asked. “So Ivy, that’s a very pretty name by the way, what happened to you? How come you’re on your own?”

“I was staying at my Nan’s house and she went to put the bins out. After ten minutes or so, she hadn’t come back. I went out to check on her but those things were there. I saw that the bins were out and my Nan, s-she was different, she was one of those things. I didn’t know what to do. I went over to her and she started foaming from her mouth.”

Sherlock interrupted. “The foam didn’t get on you did it?”

“N-no.”

“You have to be one hundred per cent sure, no possibility it got on you?”

“No.”

“Why? Sherlock, why does it matter?” John asked.

“If any part of them gets in you, you turn into one of them. Foam, blood, saliva, stay away from it.”

John asked. “Has anyone come in contact with this stuff?”

“No.” Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade answered.

“You were saying, Ivy.” John said.

“I saw my Nan like that and ran. That’s all. Then you found me.”

“Do you have any family, other than your nan?”

“Yes, my mum and dad. Are they going to be okay?”

“I’m sure they are.”

Their conversation was yet again interrupted by Sherlock. “John, have you barricaded every door and window?”

“Yes.”

“What about Mycroft’s room?”

“Shit!” John exclaimed.

They all ran to Mycroft’s room and burst the door open. Mycroft still sat, curled up. At all the sudden noise, the window behind Mycroft shattered from a zombie running into it. Mycroft abruptly shot up.

“Run!” Sherlock shouted.

More zombies came crawling through the broken window and Mycroft ran out the door.

John and Mycroft closed the door behind them and stood in front of it, keeping it shut. Mrs. Hudson stood quivering in the corner and Lestrade comforted her. Sherlock stood in front of John and Mycroft, pointing his gun at the door in case the zombies overpowered them. Ivy wrapped her hands around Sherlock and hid behind him.

Suddenly, two zombies managed to break the space in the door in-between Mycroft and John but only managed to make a hole for their heads. Sherlock knew that they were going to get in any moment now. He also knew that one was going to turn John and the other was going to turn Mycroft if he didn’t do anything. He only had time to shoot one zombie before it got any further. He could only save one person. It was John or Mycroft, his friend or his brother. He had thought that Mycroft was cold and un-caring towards him but actually, he had always been ashamed of what he did as a child, he wasn’t just his brother, his was his friend as well.

The zombies broke through and Sherlock didn’t have any more time to think.

Sherlock shot his gun at the zombie who was trying to bite John.

John was his best friend, Sherlock didn’t know how he would feel if he was responsible for John’s death.

The zombie dropped dead to the ground and the other mounted Mycroft. It bit into his neck and Sherlock turned away, unable to watch Mycroft die because of him.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The club obviously wasn’t safe anymore and Sherlock knew they had to find a new hideout.

“Everybody out the front door!” He yelled.

Lestrade helped Mrs. Hudson out with her bad hip and John carried Ivy. They ran out onto the streets and Sherlock took the lead to keep an eye out for a new hideout and to shoot zombies from ahead. They were in a sort of V formation; Sherlock in front, John and Ivy on one side and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade on the other. They were going really slowly and more and more zombies were chasing after them.

Sherlock saw a sign far away in the distance for a hardware store, which would be a good place to hide.

Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson were doing fine but John was going rather slowly carrying Ivy.

“John.” Sherlock said. “I’ll take her. I see a place not far from here that we can stay in. Just focus on getting yourself there.”

Sherlock could tell that John was pondering whether or not to give Ivy to him.

“Trust me. You can ask questions later.” Sherlock said.

John handed Ivy over to Sherlock and they all started jogging to the store, apart from Mrs. Hudson, who was sort limping while leaning on Lestrade’s shoulder.

They managed to make it to the store and they kicked the door in then found some wood planks in the back and some hammers and nails, then started barricading the doors and walls.

Ivy said to Sherlock. “I don’t know what John’s talking about, I don’t think you’re a miserable sod.”

Sherlock smiled but didn’t really know what say. He put his hand on her shoulder for a few seconds before turning away to help with the barricading.

Ivy continued talking to him. “I guess no one ever taught you how to be nice did they?”

Again, Sherlock couldn’t come up with anything to say. Ivy left and instead, John came over to Sherlock.

“Why did you take Ivy from me?”

“Because you were going too slowly.”

“When have you ever cared about my pace?”

“I care when there are zombies trying to _kill_ you, John!”

“Then shoot them. Now, try and keep your voice down before the zombies find us.”

“I didn’t want to use up all my ammo.”

Before John could reply, Ivy came over again. “For you.” She said, handing Sherlock a folded piece of paper. She must have found some paper and pens because when Sherlock opened up the paper, it was a picture of him and John holding Ivy’s hand.

“What is it?” John asked.

Sherlock handed him the paper and said to Ivy. “T-thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Ivy replied.

“Sherlock, have you actually made another friend? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Shut up.”

Ivy giggled again.

John handed the picture back to Sherlock and he put it in his pocket.

“So, Ivy, you were saying about your parents.” Sherlock said.

“My mum and dad. Well, my mum’s called Angela Valentine and my dad isn’t my real dad, he’s called James Anderson but I call him Anderson.”

“And what do they do for a living?” John asked, trying to take her mind off the current situation, but it was hard to do with the hammering of nails and the distant sound of zombie screeches.

“My mum, she’s an optician and Anderson is a forensic scientist.”

Sherlock interrupted. “Wait. Your dad’s Anderson! John, her dad’s Anderson!”

John replied. “Ivy, does your dad sometimes work for Scotland Yard?”

“Yes.” She replied.

Sherlock asked. “Does your dad have stupid brown hair and a stupid face and is a complete idiot?”

“Yeah, you know him?”

“Yes, I unfortunately work with him. How do you live with him?”

“I don’t know, it’s like hell.”

“I’m so sorry for you.”

“Thanks. I’m so sorry for you as well. You missed out ‘stupid accent’ in your description of him.”

Sherlock and Ivy laughed in unison.

“I’ll leave you two alone then.” John said.

Sherlock didn’t know what to make of that, but continued the conversation none the less. “So where are your mum and dad now?”

“I don’t know. They were at my house while I was at my Nan’s house. They might not know what’s going on and still be at home.”

“What road is your house on?”

“Eccleston Street.”

“We can go there and find them if you’d like to.”

“Oh yes please!”

“John!” Sherlock called. “We need to make an excursion.”

“For what?”

“We have to find Ivy’s family.”

“Seriously? We’ll be risking our lives.”

Sherlock noticed that John was trying to do an impression of him.

“Yes, seriously. What if this was you and you needed your family?” Sherlock replied, also imitating John.

“Okay, fine. We all go so we have more weapons.” John said. “Sherlock, can I talk to you for a second.”

“Please excuse me.” Sherlock said to Ivy before walking over to John. “What?”

“We never had time to talk about what happened at the club.”

Sherlock didn’t reply.

“You saved me over Mycroft.”

“Of course I did.”

“Thank you.” He paused “But are you okay with that? Nothing you want to talk about? Even past history can’t affect the fact that you watched your own brother die.”

“No, I’m fine John.”

He could tell Sherlock was lying; he was never good at expressing his emotions, so John changed the subject. “What’s going on with you and Ivy? You would make a really good dad.”

“So would you.”

“And you’re complementing people now? What’s up with that?”

“Is it a bad thing that I’m not scrutinizing people all the time?”

“No, I’m just wondering, has an apocalypse really shown the thought to be non-existent soft side of Sherlock?”

“Well, you must have thought it was existent to move into a flat with me.”

This time, John didn’t reply.

“No one has ever seen anything of emotion from me so why move into a flat with someone you’ve only met for a few minutes?”

Ivy interrupted. “Guys, are we going or what?”

“Yes, okay.” John replied. “Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, we’re leaving.”

“What? Why?” Lestrade asked.

“We’re going to look for Ivy’s parents.”

“Is Sherlock okay with that?”

“Yes.” Sherlock replied.

Lestrade looked questioningly at Sherlock before replying. “Okay then but is it really a good idea? Risking all our lives?”

“To save other people’s lives, yes.” John replied.

“Mrs. Hudson, are you going to be okay to go?” Lestrade asked.

“Yes, I’ll be fine dearie.”

“Okay, I’ll go.”

“Grab your guns then.” Sherlock said.


	6. Chapter 6

They un-barricaded the door and set out for Eccleston Street.

“Don’t use your guns unless you have to so that we don’t attract more zombies.” John informed.

Lestrade and Sherlock nodded.

They left the shop and since they hadn’t made much noise, no zombies were in sight.

“Let’s hurry.” Sherlock said in a hushed voice.

They walked across the streets. Lestrade and Sherlock stood at the front with John, who was holding Ivy’s hand, behind them and Mrs. Hudson at the back.

Mrs. Hudson screamed and the four of them turned around to see that, with the hip she had, Mrs. Hudson was  far way away and had tripped over. At the sound of her scream, a zombie had come through a window and ran towards Mrs. Hudson.

More zombies followed and Lestrade said. “I’ll go and help her up, you three stay here.”

“No, why does it have to be you?” John asked.

“You guys have things to live for, I don’t. You have the rest of your lives ahead of you, I don’t. Stay here and cover me. We don’t have time for argument.”

“Okay.” John said and Sherlock nodded.

Lestrade ran over to Mrs. Hudson but as he did, a zombie had reached her and was clawing at her leg. John shot it and Lestrade managed to grab Mrs. Hudson’s hand.  More zombies got there and one jumped on Lestrade and sent him to the ground. With their screams and gun shots, in the distance, a crowd of Zombies were coming towards them. Lestrade shot the zombie that jumped on him and yelled. “You have to go! Now!”

“No!” Ivy wailed. “We can’t leave them.”

“We have to go.” Sherlock declared.

“But we can save them!” Ivy protested.

“We’re going to get ourselves killed if we don’t run _now_! Come on!”

Sherlock took Ivy up into his arms and ran with John by his side. Zombies were approaching ever nearer.

“That is my house!” Ivy shouted. “There it is!”

It was a two storey house with a gate on the side that led into the garden. Fortunately, the gate wasn’t locked so they all clambered into Ivy’s garden and locked the gate behind them.

“We left them to die!” Ivy shouted.

“No, we didn’t. We tried our best Ivy.” John said.

Sherlock added. “If we had ran to them, we would have been dead and if we had shot more zombies, we would have brought even more of them to us. We did the best we could without getting us all killed. Lestrade has a gun anyway, they might still be alive.”

They sat in silence for a while, trying to catch their breaths until Sherlock said. “How are we going to get into your house? Is it locked all the way around?”

“There’s a key under the back door mat.” Ivy said, pointing to the back door in front of them.

“Sherlock, I’ve ran out of ammo.” John said.

“Okay then, I’ll go inside first to make sure there are no zombies downstairs and then I’ll call you two in.”

“Okay.” John answered.

Sherlock grabbed the key from under the mat and went in the first room then closed the front door behind him, in case a zombie went running out to John and Ivy without him noticing.

Immediately, a zombie jumped on him and pushed him to the ground from the side while he was caught off guard. It thrashed its head around and foam flying everywhere: in his eyes and in his mouth. According to Mycroft, Sherlock was going to turn but maybe he was wrong, maybe you need high quantities, maybe he was going to be okay. He pushed the zombie off and quickly jumped up before shooting its heart.

He checked the rest of downstairs to check if it was clear but he couldn’t find another zombie downstairs.

He didn’t want to panic John or Ivy so he didn’t tell them about the possibility he was going to turn.

He went outside and said. “Downstairs is all clear but I had to shoot one zombie.”

“Yeah, we heard.” John said.

“But, if you found a zombie in the house, are my mum and dad okay?” Ivy questioned.

“They could be locked in a room or something. Even if they’re not in the house, they might have left a note saying where they are. Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll find your mum and dad.” Sherlock lied, reassuringly. The likely hood of them surviving was slim but possible. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

They went into the house and Sherlock was first up the stairs, followed by John and Ivy. When they had walked up half of the stairs, they all could smell a horrible stench that only John and Sherlock could know what it was: rotting flesh. They knew it was coming from the bedroom and they exchanged a glance of horror.

Sherlock edged the bedroom door open to reveal what they had expected.

“Oh no!” Ivy cried. “Oh god, no!”

“What happened in here?” John asked.

Sherlock surveyed the room.

A dead zombie was on the floor with a bullet wound in its heart and a purple blood splatter behind him and blood on his teeth but it was red blood, not purple. Another purple blood splatter was on the other wall but without a body, instead, it had a blood smear leading to the bed. On the bed, a dead zombie was lying with a bullet wound in its heart, a bite mark on its leg and it was holding Anderson’s hand. Anderson lay on the bed and held a gun in his hand and had a bullet in his brain.

“A zombie must have gotten in and bitten Angela. Then she turned so Anderson shot her. He dragged her onto the bed and probably killed himself in knowing it was the easiest route.”

Ivy began sobbing loudly for the death of her parents.

“Ivy.” Sherlock said. “They probably went quicker and more painlessly than most people do. And they died together, hand in hand. That’s one of the best ways to die. In a way, they’re lucky.”

“But. I don’t. Have a family. Anymore.” She said between sobs.

John knelt down in front of her and said. “You have us.”

Sherlock did the same and knelt down besides John. “And we promise to look after you.”

She looked at them with tear-filled eyes; she knew she knew that if she didn’t stop crying soon, maybe she never would. She took a sharp intake of breath and asked. “Can we give them a proper burial?”

“Of course.” John reassured.

Ivy threw herself in-between John and Sherlock and wrapped her hands around them both. She buried her face in their clothing and Sherlock stroked her hair.

Sherlock started to feel like all his skin was on fire and he knew he wouldn’t survive, he would turn, and he would become a zombie.

 “We should leave this place.” Sherlock said.

“Okay.” John agreed.

“But John, you should look around for ammo or food. I’ll take Ivy outside with me.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Be careful.” Sherlock said, he longed to stay and tell John what was going on but he didn’t want to risk hurting him. He led Ivy outside with what felt like acid coursing through every one of his veins.


	7. Chapter 7

Once they were outside, Sherlock asked. “Do you still have that pen and paper from the hardware store?”

“Yes, why?”

“Can I borrow it?” Sherlock started to feel sweat dripping down his face and his back and his neck.

“Yeah.” Ivy said, handing him the stationary from her pocket. “A-are you okay? You don’t look too good.”

“Ivy, I need to tell you something. Don’t panic, and most of all, don’t tell John.” Sherlock knew that John wouldn’t listen to him, that he’d risk his life to save Sherlock’s but he knew he was un-saveable. “You have to listen to me and my instructions very carefully and you have to be _brave_ , for me. I-I’m going to turn. The foam got in my mouth and my eyes.”

“No! No! You said I’d have you as my family! You can’t! You _can’t_!”

“Ivy, I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. You’ll be safe with John, he’ll look after you. But you have to do something for me, my last wish.”

“ _Anything._ ”

“I’m going to write a letter and you have to give it to John, okay?”

“Okay.” Ivy said, barely audible.

She still had tears coming down her face from seeing her parents’ dead bodies but she tried to do as Sherlock said, to be brave. The tears stubbornly rolled down her cheek.

“And you have to do one more thing for me.”

“W-what?”

“In case I turn halfway through writing the letter.” Sherlock grabbed both of Ivy’s hands and put the gun in them. “You have to shoot me.”

“No! I can’t!”

“You have to Ivy. I’m going to try and kill you and John. If I turn, shoot me in the heart. It’s going to be really loud but I know you can do it if you have to. Just aim and pull the trigger.”

Ivy couldn’t talk anymore, she had given up on being brave, on not crying, it was an impossible task. Her whole life was falling apart, she had no parents and so quickly she saw a possibility of having a family with Sherlock and John before that was snatched from her too. She shook her head, holding on limply to the gun, barely being able to process everything that was going on. It was too much to bear.

“ _Please_ , you have to.” She heard the pain in Sherlock’s voice; she knew he was going through a lot too. She wondered what she would do if she knew she was about to die. It would be horrible. She closed her eyes and grasped the gun more tightly.

“O-okay.” She murmured.

“Thank you.” Sherlock said.

He lay the paper down on the floor and started writing his letter to John with one hand. With his other hand, he grasped the drawing Ivy had drawn. Tears clutched his eyes and blurred his vision until they dropped onto the paper below. He started to feel light headed but he had to finish off the letter. The burning sensation left his body and he began to feel drowsy. His eyes started closing but he knew that if they shut, they would never open again. He lost the will to hold them open any longer and they turned to little slits of light. He went from the extreme heat to feeling ice cold. He got scared, he knew he wouldn’t last long anymore; he’d be gone from existence forever. He started shaking before he finally closed his eyes eternally.

Ivy could see that Sherlock wasn’t going to last much longer, she held the gun tightly in front of her, shaking and with tear drops rolling off her face and falling to the ground.

Sherlock looked at her but she knew it wasn’t Sherlock anymore, an animalistic ferocity hung in his eyes and he looked ready to pounce.

With a loud sob, Ivy aimed the gun and pulled the trigger.

She closed her eyes and fell to her knees. She had seen her Nan turn, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade get swamped by zombies, and her mum and dad dead in a bloody mess and now she had killed Sherlock.

Ivy opened her eyes again to see Sherlock dead at her feet. She dropped her gun and took the drawing and letter from his hands and put them in her pocket. She clung to Sherlock’s dead body. She couldn’t believe she had shot him but knew it was for her and John’s safety. She sobbed into Sherlock’s hair but could feel his cold skin against her own and it made her feel sick. She had to leave and so she ran upstairs, as fast as she could, to John and handed him the letter.

“What was the gun shot?” John asked. “And where’s Sherlock?” He turned around and saw the look of horror painted on Ivy’s face and he instantly grew worried.

Ivy couldn’t bring herself to reply and instead, handed him the letter. John took the paper questioningly and began to read.

_‘John. Some of the zombies foam got in my mouth. I know I’m going to turn and I knew that you wouldn’t let me die so I’ve gotten Ivy to kill me if I don’t finish this letter in time to kill myself. I just want you to know that I’ve realized why you chose to live with me. That moment you found out you’d lost your walking stick, you realized you felt best with excitement all around you, you felt best with a chase and you liked the thrill. At that moment, I knew you were like me and you’d want to experience my life, my danger. Throughout my childhood, throughout my life, I’ve never met anyone who wanted to be around me, until now. When you threw your arm around Moriarty’s neck at the pool and tried to save my life, I never thought anyone would ever do that for me. I’ve been told that I’m an arrogant prat, but you saw through that, you risked your life for me. Even I didn’t think there was anything else in me other than my job ‘consulting detective’ but you could see that I was much more. You could see that I was a person instead of some sort of freak. Only you, John. No one else. Only you. John I_


End file.
